No worries, roles or constraints;
Perceived labels, none.
Being who I am meant to be,
Living as I am intended to live.
Without quotation marks I am.
No worries, roles or constraints;
After five years of trying and multiple miscarriages, a daughter was born to a young couple. Her great-grandfather referred to her as “the most wanted baby” when he received the news of the birth of his twenty-second great grandchild.
The new parents continued to try to have other children, with little success until three years later when another daughter was conceived. However, things did not go well. With a due date of February 14, 1962, she died in utero sometime before Christmas of ’61. They were devastated.
The doctor advised them to wait for the situation to resolve itself naturally; the distressed husband, concerned for his wife, did not want to wait.
With heavy hearts, they endured the stillbirth; the expectant mother never giving up hope that the child within was still alive.
After fighting cancer, many years later, the beloved mother died. The only daughter, now grown, was going through her mother’s papers and found a small note written in her mother’s familiar handwriting.
“Sarah Marie, you have a wonderful daddy and sweet little sister who love you very much. Even though I didn’t get to see you, I love you.”
John 11:25-26, Yeshua said to her, “I AM the Resurrection and the Life! Whoever puts his trust in me will live, even if he dies; and everyone living and trusting in me will never die. Do you believe this?”
When you were born, I welcomed you
with a kiss on the forehead and a hug hello.
We sang and read and talked and rhymed,
“this little piggy” and a kiss on the toe.
We played and giggled and tickled and laughed
with a kiss on the tummy and a prrrrp.
Along the way there were bumps and scrapes and scratches and fevers
and even a kiss on a bruised elbow.
Requests for tatoos and piercings, dyed hair;
I kissed you on the hand and just said, “Oh?”
There were times of great joy and arguments too;
I kissed you on the cheek and felt like your foe.
Behind the wheel of a car you jumped,
I blew you a kiss and wearily sighed, “Whoa!”
You’re out the door and on your own;
I long to kiss you on the forehead as I let you go.
Among the many jobs I’ve held—cashier, data processor, hotel maid, sewing machine operator, pharmacy technician—the most rewarding by far (other than parenting) has been as a sixth grade Middle School teacher.
I know what you’re thinking—I’ve heard many comments from the awe-inspired “Wow” to the astounded “You must be crazy” in response to educating that particular age group. Nothing can come close (or so I thought) to the near rock star status of “You’re the best teacher I’ve ever had” from students; especially from the ones which challenged me the most or brought out the worst in me. Over the years, my students taught me numerous painful yet healing lessons about myself.
Since retiring six months ago, I thought my students were finished teaching me. I was wrong. Today, I “just happened” to bump into a former student. Homeless, alone, scared—our eyes locked and this disheveled 29-year-old woman recognized and remembered her former sixth grade teacher. What money I had I slipped into her hand as I gave her a hug. That’s when I saw Him, there in her eyes, almost hidden behind the sorrow and suffering.
Jesus said “Yes! I tell you whenever you did these things (feed the hungry, shelter a stranger, clothe the naked, tend the sick, visit the imprisoned) for one of the least important of these brothers of mine, you did them for me.” Matthew 25:40 There I was in a brief instant being schooled on the reality of the Word from someone with whom I spent nearly ten months teaching some 17 years ago.
Rock Star? No, better! Humbled servant of God.